Not A Sentimental Man
by AngelsNeverSuffer
Summary: Charles Ofdensen was not a sentimental man... Dresden Files/Metalocalyps crossover. Slash. M/H C/N M/C. Don't like don't read.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

Charles Ofdensen was not a sentimental man, by nature, but when a particular green eyed phantom, dressed to the nines in a sleek Armani suit, caught his eye from across the crowded ballroom and smiled a tiger smile, the small businessman found his lips pull back from his teeth in a similar manner; with a healthy dose of pure, unaltered joy mixed in. John was here, and the world was going to burn.

Several Days Previous…

Dethklok had gathered in the large conference room for their weekly band meeting with their OFC, Charles Ofdensen. Currently the room was in a state of controlled chaos. Toki had eaten too much sugar and Nathan had gotten hold of yet another penlight. Skwisgar and Murderface were arguing over the importance of a bass guitar in the band while Pickles lay, drooling, on the floor.

"Guys, please, listen for a minute. This is important." Aggravation tinting his words slightly sharper than normal, not that any of them noticed, no one bothered to learn the robot's different tones. No one since… _Don't!_ Charles ordered himself sharply, _Don't go there. Don't remember him. You'll just start getting __**restless**__ if you do._

"Hey's managers, whys yous looks so sad?" Trust Toki to be the most observant of the band.

"Nothing Toki," he glanced up to see Toki staring at him, unnaturally still, "just remembering someone." This seemed to satisfy the Norwegian's momentary curiosity as he turned back to pestering Nathan for the penlight. Seeing that the chances of him regaining the boys interest was an impossibility the brown haired man stood slowly and left the room, intent on returning to his office and getting some work done. Before he could arrive however his cell phone (the Dethphones were too dangerous for him to use) beeped. "Ofdensen."

"Sir, there is a messenger at the front door who wishes to speak with you." The front door? How had this person gotten past security?

"I'll be right there." With that he hung up and took the next right which would bring him to the foyer as quickly as possible. When the suited man stepped into the surprisingly small front hall he took note that the guest was not only inside but was currently flirting shamelessly with a small flock of female Klokateers. It was a young man, perhaps mid twenties, taller than average by a few inches with a supermodels body and dark hair, clothe entirely in white. He made an interesting contrast to the black, blood red, and heavily spiked decor. "Ahem." Charles coughed politely to announce his presence causing whatever spell this stranger had created over the women to break as they scuttled away to parts unknown. The OFC made a mental note to have them punished later before turning is attention back to the pleasantly grinning man. "I was told you wished to speak to me?"

"Actually, I had requested a meeting with the band, but was informed that you were the only one I would be able to speak to. Despite the generous donation I made. " Charles hated him immediately. He was the sort of pompous ass that ignored those who truly needed help, _Enough! Focus on the here and now, not the past._ Ofdensen grit his teeth and forced the contempt from his words.

"Yes, those are our policies," the manager adjusted his glasses slightly, "the band does not wish to become involved with the business part of things that it was decided early on that I would handle it all. Now I don't believe I caught your name Mr. …?"

"Raith, Thomas Raith."

"Well, Mr. Raith –"

"Just Thomas, Mr. Ofdensen," the man interrupted smoothly, "we'll probably cross paths quite often." A feral grin twisted Thomas' handsome features as a mocking glimmer sparked within his eyes.

"Fine, Thomas. What is it that you want to discuss with the band?" the bespectacled man grit out; polite façade still firmly in place.

Another smile, "There is a charity event being hosted by the Raith family that would provide a wonderful tax write-off for Dethklok…"

"And great publicity for your family." It wasn't a question.

"Of course, of course," the taller male replied flippantly before continuing, "but it's a win-win situation; the band needs the tax break and the ball needs the attention. What could possibly be the downside for you?"

The dark haired man smiled charmingly though the CFO knew it was false; a mask worn by a predator used to getting what it wanted. Charles needed time to think it over; to see all the possible angles and intricacies – he'd definitely need to see the contract before he signed anything. If – and it was still a very large if – he thought it might be a worthwhile venture he'd need something to get the boys to agree; a charity event wasn't going to even register on the "brutal scale."

"Send me a copy of the itinerary, venue, and contract and we'll see," Ofdensen instructed preparing to show the wolf in sheep's clothing out the door.

"Thank you for the consideration, Mr. Ofdensen. I am well aware that if you decide to put this offer before Dethklok that it is possible they may refuse, but, with the location of the event, they may just agree." His grin turned sly, "It's in Chicago at the Congress Plaza Hotel; supposedly haunted by Al Capone himself." Thomas Raith smirked once more before leaving with a final, flippant, comment, "Perhaps the ghost will come out just for Dethklok – that troll certainly did."

Charles' head snapped to the exiting man in alarm, _How could he know about the troll; that was covered up as a mass hallucination…_

Authors notes:

This is an idea that popped into my head one day and refused to leave. If you don't like it then don't come bitching to me. Updates will be sporadic at best. _**CONSTRUCTIVE**_ Criticism highly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, thanks to the two people who reviewed my first chapter. I know that it has been a while since I updated this story (and it's a short update), I apologize, I was in the middle of moving into my new dorm and getting settled, but now that it's over I hope to be able to write more often. Thanks again you two.

Chapter 2

The next day Charles Ofdensen sat at his desk as he slowly flipped through a file that the klokateers had put together on the Raith family. From what he had read the Raith's were both well-known held in very high-esteem wielding no small amount of clout in certain political circles. There w as also a bizarre connection to the porn industry.

Other than that there wasn't anything terribly balk-worthy. So far Ofdensen hadn't been able to think of a single _factual_ reason not to at the very least inform the band of the invitation. Except for the disturbing aura the manager had felt from Thomas Raith; that cold, bestial feeling that the natural Adonis seemed to give off. The brunet didn't like it. Not one bit. This party felt like a trap… but was that enough to not bring it up to the rest of Dethklok?

They certainly wouldn't believe so.

With a heavy sigh Charles called a band meeting for the second time this week and stood to make his way to the conference room. It took nearly an hour for the others to filter into their usual seats. Nathan was, naturally, the first to vent his frustrations, "Why are we having two weekly meetings? We all agreed that we're only every supposed to have one!"

"I know that, Nathan," Charles said calmly, "but you all have been invited to a party and it's in a couple of—"

"Party?" Toki cried excitedly, "Whys you not says sos earlier? I says let's go!" Toki's exuberance was not shared by the rest of the band.

"Why the fuck should we go to some shit ass party?" Murderface shouted. His ire, however, was drowned out by a drunken cheer from Pickles.

"I second goin'. We 'aven't been _anywhere_ in _weeks_!"

"Guys," Ofdensen tried to interrupt, "I haven't even told you where—"

"I agree. We're going to that party!" the note of finality in the singers voice made the manager sigh. So much for presenting them an alternative.

-Present-

Charles thought back on this moment as he moved among the obscenely rich men and women of the gathering. There were senators, congressmen, and a sprinkling of actors and actresses here and there. All of whom were trying to curry favor with one or more of the band. He mused idly that even if he had managed to get a word in edgewise they probably would have ignored whatever he said anyway; probably out of shear principle.

A middle-aged woman so bedecked in precious stones that Ofdensen was amazed she was able to balance in her six inch stiletto heels, shifted and granted the man a glimpse across the ballroom and of the one person Charles had been trying not to think about for the past week.

With a single-mindedness that he hadn't experienced since his years on the streets the small man crossed the ballroom in a matter of seconds and before he could stop himself he reached out and touched the specter's shoulder.

"John?"

AN: CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM requested. I have a thousand ideas or so for where this is going and will hopefully update sooner than last time, but any ideas you have are welcome.


End file.
